


you belong to me.

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: i didn't know that we could break a silver lining [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3245801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>beauty and the beast au: grant’s search for his dog opens the door to true love, however strange it may be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you belong to me.

Buddy is missing.

Grant has taken stock of all of Christian’s hunting dogs, and Buddy isn’t there.

Grant loves Buddy.  Grant never should’ve let Christian take him hunting.  Even if Christian hadn’t given him a real choice.  Especially because of that.

“Where’s my dog?” Grant asks, as Christian hangs his saddle.

Christian shrugs with an infuriating nonchalance.  “He ran off,” Christian says.  He’s got that lilt to his voice that always means he’s lying.  “I tried to stop him.”

Grant balls his hand into a fist.  Not for the first time, he entertains slamming Christian’s head against the door of the barn.  Breaking his brother’s nose, watching the blood drip onto his starched, white cravat.

But the townspeople love Christian.  If Grant harmed a hair on his brother’s smug head, the town would have his.

Grant really, really hates this town.  He hates being the ‘strange, quiet’ brother.  He hates being stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere.  Away from his younger siblings, stuck a two-day carriage ride away.

He always feels like he’s in the middle of a punishment.  He’s twenty-six, and he doesn’t know why he deserves this.

“Christian,” Grant asks, as politely as he can manage.  “Where’s Buddy?”

Christian tilts his head, like he’s trying to remember.  “I think he ran off in the woods near Prosper Manor,” Christian says.  “Saw something strange and took off like a bolt.”

Grant’s no idiot, despite Christian’s near constant insistence that he is.  He knows all the story of Prosper Manor.  “You let my dog get eaten by that beast?!”

Christian makes a face.  “Don’t shout,” Christian says.  “I told you, he ran off.  And besides.  The beast is just a myth.”

No one believes that.  Not even stoic, smug Christian.

“If you want him so badly,” Christian says.  “Take a horse. Go find him.”

“Is this another one of your games Christian?” Grant demands, drawing himself to his full height.  “Is this a challenge?”

Christian remains unfazed.  “Just a suggestion,” he says.  His eyes scan the skies for a moment, before he smirks.  “You might want to get going, Grant,” he says.  “There’s going to be a storm coming soon.”

Grant wants to grab Christian by the throat so badly his hands ache.  But as always, he refrains.  “Don’t wait up for me,” Grant says, grabbing his own saddle from the door.

“Stay safe, baby brother,” Christian says.  “I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

Christian thinks himself a fantastic liar.  He isn’t.

  
  


The storm looms on the horizon as Grant rides through the woods, cursing under his breath.  His damn brother.  His damn brother took the only thing that mattered to Grant at all and lost him in the woods.

He didn’t have to put up with it, if he didn’t want to.  He could fight.  He could.

“Buddy!” he calls again.  He’s been calling for his dog for ages now, as the manor on the hill outside town grows closer and closer.  He’s about ten minutes from it, now.

He hears the first crack of thunder.  “Buddy!” he yells.

If something happened to Buddy, then Grant will hurt his brother.  That will do it.  That will suffice.  He can do it for Buddy.  Just not for himself.

It starts to drizzle as he continues up the hill.  He spares a glance towards the Manor, still staring back at him.

Someone’s turned a light on.  That’s odd.  No one’s ever seen a light on at the manor before.

A crack of lightning, and the horse whinnies in fear.  Grant reaches forward, strokes the side of the mare’s neck.  “It’s alright,” Grant says.  “Just to the top of the hill.  I’m sure he’ll be there.”  He has to be there.  The horse huffs, but keeps a steady gallop.  “Thank you, girl,” Grant says, still petting her.  “Thank you.”

It’s raining harder.  His hair is beginning to dampen, as are the shoulders and back of his coat.  But he pushes forward.

  
  


By the time they reach the sprawling woods outside Prosper Manor, it has begun to pour.  Grant pushes his soaked hair out of his eyes.  “Buddy!” he yells, scanning the closest parts of the woods for a sign of his dog.  “Buddy boy, are you here?”

Lighting cracks above the Manor’s roof, followed by pounding thunder.  His horse bucks frantically.  “No, girl,” Grant says, urging her back down.  “You have to stay, sweetie.  Please, I’ll find him soon, please.”  He pulls on her reigns.  Another flash of lightning, and she’s up on her hind legs, bucking and flailing.  His horse bucks again, and Grant is flung from her back.

He hits the ground, hard enough that he can taste blood.  His eyes flutter closed, and his world goes dark.

  
  


Except he isn’t dead at all.  He’s in a warm bathrobe, and he’s been stuck in a chair in front of a fireplace.

He’ll be concerned about the bathrobe in a minute.  Right now, his dog is staring up at him with wide, eager eyes.

“Buddy!” Grant says, leaning forward too quickly.  It gives him a nasty head rush.  Makes everything ache.  But Buddy’s here! He’s been kept safe and dry this whole time.  “How are you, boy?” Grant asks, gently rubbing behind Buddy’s ear.  “Who rescued you?”

Buddy just wags his tail, nuzzles Grant’s hand.  It’s warm by the fireplace, which is nice, but Grant still has no idea where he is.

He remembers getting flung from his horse and blacking out right in front of-

Oh.

He tries to stand, and is met with a sharp pain in his left leg.  He falls back into his seat.

Trapped by his broken leg in Prosper Manor.  This is not how he expected the night to go.  At least he has Buddy.  That’s one thing in his favor.  “Hello?” he calls.  “Anyone home?”

Someone has to be here.  Someone has to have brought him in.

Maybe the beast did it.

Maybe the beast saved his dog, and has saved him, too.

Or maybe he should just be thankful that he made it inside at all.  Unless the beast is lurking through the manor right now.  This could be a trap.  It could be dangerous.  Buddy whines as Grant tries to stand again.

“It’s alright,” Grant says.  “I’m getting used to it.”  It feels like his leg is splintering under him.  Each moment is a new experience in agony.  “I’ll get us out of here, pup-”

“Why are you standing?”

  
  


The shock makes Grant lose the balance he’d been trying to maintain on his good leg.  With a yelp, he falls back into his seat.  “What?” he asks.  He doesn’t know where the voice came from.  Who it belonged to.  Just that it was soft.  Feminine.  Concerned.

A girl appears in the farthest doorway of the room, clutching a cane in her hands.  Well.  Girl isn’t entirely fair.  She’s only a little younger than he is.  She’s more like a young lady.  A young woman, even.  “I said,” she says.  “Why are you standing?”

“Because,” Grant responds.  “I thought this might be a trap.”  He takes in the sight of her as she approaches, and the fire lights up her skin.  Her hair is damp, too, but she’s changed into a new dress.  Her eyelashes cast shadows along her gentle face.  Her pretty little nose.  Her frowning mouth.

“You thought that someone rescuing you from a thunderstorm could be a trap?” she asks.  She presents him with the cane.  “That’s a bit odd.”

“I’m not very trusting,” Grant says, but he takes the cane anyway.

“I saved your dog,” she says.  “That must be a point in my favor.”

He meets her eyes, and he can’t even pretend they don’t leave him breathless.  They’re so dark he can see himself in them.  And yet he can’t see anything but her.  Not really.  “It is,” he says.  “I was out looking for him.”

“You weren’t afraid?” Skye asks quietly.  “Of the beast?”

Grant shakes his head.  “Buddy matters more than that,” Grant says.  “I had to come get him.”

Skye blinks a couple times, reaches out to pet Buddy’s head.  He happily leans towards her hand.  “I thought maybe I’d have someone to keep me company,” she says.  “But he means a lot to you, so I’m glad you found him.”

Grant tilts his head.  “You’re all alone?” he asks.  “In this whole, big house?”

“I had a couple of friends that stayed, for a while,” she says.  “But they started to change.  So I made them leave.”

Grant raises his eyebrows.  “What?”

She looks away.  “It’s not important.”

He wants to press it.  But she did bring him in from the rain.  And she protected his dog.  It’s a bit odd, the fact that she was able to carry him inside.  He’s almost a full foot taller than she is.

She’s so small and sad looking.  Grant tries to offer her a smile.  “Well,” he says.  “It’s not like I can go anywhere tonight.”  He taps his leg with the cane for emphasis, then immediately regrets it as pain shoots up through his body.  “Ow.”

“Don’t touch your leg!” Skye says.  “It’s in a pretty bad way.”

“Broken?” Grant asks.

“I set it,” she says.

“Who taught you to set broken bones?” Grant asks.

Skye nibbles on her lower lip, for a moment.  “My father’s a doctor,” she says.  “Or at least, he was.”

  
  


Another mystery.  Grant doesn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, so he just nods in understanding.  “Do you have a room for me to stay in?” he says.  “Or maybe some dry clothes?”

She glances down to his robe, and then back to his face.  He thinks he sees the slightest pink blush on her cheeks.  It’s hard to tell from in the low light.  “I didn’t look,” she says.  “I promise.  But you’d have gotten sick.  You were soaked.”

“It’s alright,” Grant says.  “Worse things have happened.”

“I’m sorry,” she says.  “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it was necessary.”

He trusts her judgment.  Strange, since he barely knows her.  He smiles again, more genuine this time.  “It’s fine.”

“I can find you dry clothes,” she promises.  “But would you like something to eat?”

He is pretty hungry.  He nods.  “If you’d lead me to the kitchen,” he says.

She smiles back at him finally, and the room seems somehow brighter.  “Come on, then,” she says.  “Are you alright using a cane?”

“Of course,” he says, though he’s not really sure if he is.  And truthfully, he does wobble as he stands, but the cane keeps him from putting weight on his left leg.  Buddy sits patiently at his side, and Grant’s grateful for that.

“You sure you’re alright with it?” Skye says.  “You can lean on me, if you want.”

“I think I have five stone on you,” Grant says.  “I don’t want to be a burden.”  He takes a slow step forward with the help of the cane.  “Besides,” he says.  He moves towards her, albeit slowly.  “I’m fine.”

She considers his appearance for a moment, and he’s suddenly aware of how short his robe is.  She quickly looks at his feet.  “If you’re sure.”

He follows her out of the room, into the dark of the house.

  
  


The house is even larger than it appears outside, which is saying something.  Each sprawling, winding hallway leads to another.

He’s glad he hadn’t tried to run off.  For one, he wouldn’t have made it far.  Even with the cane, he’s moving very slowly.  Plus, with the way this house is laid out, he definitely would’ve gotten lost.

Not to insult his hostess, but he finds the manor rather strange.  He’s almost positive the candles are haunted.  They light as soon as Skye enters a hallway, and then blow out when she leaves.  At least, that’s what Grant thinks is happening.  He’s not really sure he believes his eyes.  He might’ve just hit his head harder than he thought.

Buddy seems fine with the house, so then it must be alright.  If Grant were in any real danger, Buddy would show signs of alarm.  He strokes Buddy’s head with his free hand.

“I, uh,” Grant calls.  He finds himself distracted momentarily by her hair.  She’s got cascading brown waves that fall to the middle of her back.  “I didn’t get your name, earlier.  I’m Grant Ward.”

She pauses.  He pauses.  Buddy wags his tail.  She turns towards him, her profile glowing in soft candlelight.  “I’m Skye,” she says.

“Skye,” he repeats.  “That’s a beautiful name.”

He thinks he sees just the faintest smile curl on her lips.  “Thank you.”

His stomach picks that exact moment to growl impolitely. “I’m sorry,” he says, throwing his hand onto his abdomen like it’s exposed.  “I’m hungrier than I thought.”

She giggles.  It lights up her eyes.  “Sorry,” she says.  “It’s a big house.  But it’s not much further!”

The house is beginning to feel much warmer.

  
  


Her kitchen is quite a sight.  A large, stone arch lined with copper pots leads to an impressive hearth.  The table under the arch is made of a light wood, burdened by the weight of more copper dishware.  It appears as though she hasn’t used the fireplace in ages.  Strange.

“Where do you keep your food?” he asks.  “I can make us supper, if you’d like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she says.  She’s fidgeting with the skirt of her dress.

“Then how will we eat?” he asks.

She inhales, looks up to his face.  Again, he finds himself too stunned by her beauty to truly notice her nerves.  “You have to promise me you won’t be frightened,” Skye says.  “Alright?”

It’s an odd request.  And one that should raise some alarm.  But he simply nods.  “I promise.”

“My home is enchanted,” she says.  “It gives me what I desire.  Food, clothing, light.”  She stares up into his eyes.  “Had I not found you outside, I might think you were an enchantment as well.”

He’s stunned.  He only faintly registers that she desires him.  “Oh.”

“Please don’t go,” Skye says, worry crossing her face.  “I promise, it’s not dark magic.  It’s just a silly enchantment.”

He shakes his head.  “I won’t go,” he says.  He considers adding “I won’t leave you,” but that seems awfully dramatic, and rather forward.

She beams.  “Thank you,” she says.  “For staying.  Thank you, thank you.”  Without warning, she wraps her slender arms around his waist.  He lets out a small noise of surprise.  She must be eager for contact, if she considers him some kind of blessing.  He returns the hug with his free arm, and resists pressing his nose into her hair.

Even from where he stands, she smells divine.  Like spices and warmth.

“Are you alright?” he asks.  He’d like to stroke her hair, but thinks again that might be too forward.

She pulls away from him, expression unreadable.  “I’m fine.”

He gets the feeling she’s lying.  “Will you show me how it works?” he asks.  “The enchantment.  I’m quite famished.”

She’s too quick to smile again, to gesture to her empty table.  “What do you desire?”

Her.  He swallows, chases away his own thoughts.  She let him into her home when he was broken.  She’s his hostess.  Her fondness for him only comes from great loneliness.  That’s all.  “Bread would be lovely.”

She smiles at him, waves her arm.  And fresh bread appears out of thin air before him.  He reminds himself not to worry.  That he promised Skye he wouldn’t.

“Would you like soup?” she says.  “Something for your dog?”

“Both would be wonderful,” he says.  “If it’s not too much to ask.”

She shakes her head, dark curls bouncing on her shoulders.   Warm soup appears beside the bread, and a cut of meat on the floor.

Buddy barks in delight, wags his tail.  He noses his food for only a moment before he devours it.

“Anything else?” she says.  “It’s no trouble.  Anything you desire, I can give you.”

“Bread and soup is plenty,” he says.  “All I’d like is to eat it with you.”

“Let me help you into your seat, first,” she says, pulling out a chair for him.  “I regret not being able to do more for your leg.”

He slowly sinks into his seat.  He doesn’t wince as he adjusts his leg, if only to spare Skye the guilt.  She’s already done so much.  “You’re the perfect hostess,” he says.  “I feel like I’m the one taking advantage of your kindness.”

“You aren’t!” she says.  She allows herself a small laugh as she sits.  “You truly aren’t.  I’m glad for the company.”

Buddy finishes his meal and rests his head on Grant’s leg.  “The food smells wonderful,” he says.  “Your enchantment is quite the chef.”

She laughs again, in earnest.  “It truly is,” she says.  She tears from the loaf, offers him a large piece of bread.  “Please,” she says.

He takes it from her small hands, ignores the thrill he feels when their fingers brush.  “Shall we eat?” he asks.

Her mouth is already full of bread, but she tries to smile at him.  He laughs so hard he feels himself shake.  He’s happier than he’s been in ages.  Possibly ever.  And the thought that he has to leave tomorrow morning can be ignored, for now.  He eats.

  
  


“Is this room alright?” she asks.  It’s grown terribly late, though Grant isn’t particularly tired.  He should be.  But falling asleep means morning, and morning means he’ll have to leave Skye’s side.

It isn’t right, to leave her alone again.  But he can’t overstay his welcome.

There’s nothing wrong with the room.  It’s gorgeous.  A large canopy bed, sprawling bookshelves, windows overlooking the town.  The town.  He doesn’t want to go back.  He doesn’t want to go back to his brother.

“It’s perfect,” he says.  “Though I’m surprised you don’t sleep in here.”  He gestures to the window.  “Given the view.”

“Oh,” Skye says.  “I sleep with a view of the forest.  I prefer it.”

He faintly recalls the light he saw in the manor, hours before.  Could that have been her bedroom light?  It must’ve been.

“You said your home gives you clothing,” he says.  “Would you mind producing me some nightclothes?”

She blinks.  “Oh!” she says.  “Right.  Of course.”

He watches a long, white shift appear on the bed.

“I hope it fits,” Skye says.  “I can turn around while you try it on, if you’d like.”

He nods, reaches for the shift.  He unties his robe, and notices her watching.  Does she truly wish to turn away?  Would he mind if she didn’t?  He begins to open his robe, and she flushes and turns away.

He finds himself disappointed.  He clears his throat, slips off his robe.  He pulls the shift over his head.  It fits almost perfectly.  But if he tells her that, she’ll leave.  Instead, he tugs the shoulders forward, makes a noise of discomfort.  “It’s a bit small,” he says.  “Could you try again?”

She spins back around.  “My apologies,” she says.  A blue shift appears on the bed, exactly the same size as the white one.  “Is that alright?”

He picks it up off the bed.  “Let me try it on.”

She nods, and turns away again.

It fits just as well as the first one.  Buddy is giving him a curious look, and Grant presses his finger to his lips.  He can’t have Buddy spoil this for him.

Buddy tilts his head.

“Is it alright if Buddy sleeps on the bed?” Grant asks. Skye eyes his dog for a moment, and Buddy happily wags his tail.

“Of course,” Skye says.  “Come here, Buddy,” she says, and Buddy happily trots over to her.  Skye scratches behind his ears.  “Maybe Buddy should spend the night with me,” Skye says.

“Or maybe you should spend the night with us,” Grant says.

Skye stops.  Buddy stops.  Grant desires nothing more than to run outside and be struck by lightning.

Skye twists her hair tightly around her fingers.  “I think it’s better for you if I don’t,” she says.  She stares at the floor.  “I’m glad the blue shift fits better.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait!” Grant calls, but she’s already rushed out of the room.  Buddy stares up at Grant.  Probably wondering why his master is so stupid.  “I’m sorry, Buddy,” he says.

He stares out the window for a moment.  Down at the town.  With a sigh, he closes the curtains.  He doesn’t want to look at it.  He doesn’t want to think of it at all.

“We should sleep, Buddy,” Grant says.  Buddy hops onto the bed, patiently waits for Grant to climb in and adjust his leg.

Sleep comes easier than it has in years.

  
  


He sleeps later than he’s used to.  The curtains are much thicker than the ones he has at home.  He’s almost grateful for that, though he worries he’s missed breakfast with Skye.

He groans and sits up.

“You’re awake,” Skye says.

Grant almost falls out of bed.

“Sorry!” Skye says, rushing to his bedside.  She catches his arm.  “I shouldn’t have done that.  I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Have you been awake long?” Grant asks.

She shakes her head.  “I was checking on you.”  She brushes her thumb along his arm.  “I was worried you’d left already.”

“Oh,” Grant replies.  He takes her free hand with his own.  “I wouldn’t leave you.”

She doesn’t smile, as he’s expecting her to.  “I need to tell you something, Grant,” she says.  “I want you to stay with me for as long as you’d like but I-” She looks down at the bedspread.  “I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

He gently squeezes her hand.  “You can tell me,” he says.  “Whatever it is, I’ll stay.”

She sniffles.  “Do you promise?”

He almost kisses her forehead, but thinks better of it.  “I was worried you’d make me leave,” he says.  “All I want is to stay here with you.  I promise.”

She looks up at him, eyes wet.  He moves his arm from her grasp, cups her cheek.  “I’m the beast of Prosper Manor,” she says.

He must’ve misheard.  “What?”

She swallows.  Her pained expression is entirely unbearable.  “I’m cursed,” she says.  “If I go outdoors, I turn into a horrible beast.”  She twiddles her thumbs.  “At least, that’s what I was told.”

“That’s you?” he asks.  “But you’re just a girl.”

She shakes her head,  “I was a princess,” she says.  “And I was cursed.  So my father put me here, far away.”

A princess.  Does that make him her knight?  “Who cursed you?”

She bows her head.  “A terrible witch,” Skye says.  “She was jealous of my beauty.”

“So she made you into a beast,” Grant says.

Skye nuzzles his hand.  “Yes.”

“Well,” he says.  “You merely take the shape of a beast, then.  You’re still Skye.  You’re still a princess.”

“Oh no,” Skye says.  “It’s much worse than that. The beast consumes me, and I get so hungry-”  She bursts into sobs, burying her face into her shoulder.  “I’m so sorry,” she cries.  “I’m a monster.”

He turns her head back towards him, gazes into her eyes.  “You are so brave,” he tells her.  “Never doubt that.”

She considers his expression for a moment, before pressing forward.  Her lips meet his.

It feels like the first snow of the season.  Like coming home after being very far away.  It’s perfect.

She pulls back suddenly, bring her hand to her lips.  “I’m sorry,” she says.  “I’m sorry, I’ve only known you a day, I’m so-”

He kisses her again.  Softly.  She whimpers against him.  “It’s alright,” he says.  “I didn’t mind.”

Her sweet smile pulls at his every heartstring.  “You’ll stay?”

“For as long as you’ll have me,” he says.  “I’ll stay.  I’ll help you.”

She rears back.  “Help me?”

He nods.  “With your transformations.”

“You can’t,” she says.  “I’ll kill you.”

“I know what it feels like,” he says.  “That sort of rage.  I can control it within myself.”  He pulls her back towards him.  “You’re far kinder than I’ve ever been,” he says.  “It will come easier for you.”

She bites her lip.  “We could practice in the courtyard,” she says.  “But you must stay near the doors.  And if I lunge at you, you have to promise me you’ll go back indoors.”

“I won’t leave you,” he says.

“And I won’t kill you,” she says.  “I can’t hurt you if you’re inside.  Please, Grant.”

He kisses her.  “Alright,” he says.  “If that’s what you want.”

“What I want is you,” she murmurs.

He feels his heart pound in his chest.  No one’s ever desired him before.  He’s never been so in love-

Oh.  Oh, oh.

Is this his true love?

He thought it was only a myth.

  
  


They have a quick breakfast before Skye leads him to the courtyard.  “This is where I found you,” she says.  “Laying by the wall over there.”

His leg throbs.  “You went outside to get me?” he asks.

She nods.  “I worried I would eat you,” she says.  “But I couldn’t leave you out there.  You were hurt.”

He clasps her shoulder.  “See?” he says.  “You have more control that you realize.”

“That was the only time,” she says.  “I’ve never been able to leave this house and still be myself.”

“You can,” Grant says, stepping through the french doors.  He turns back to her, offers her his hand.  “Come on.”

Skye reaches for him.  Her hand crosses the threshold.  The transformation is immediate, as soon as the sunlight hits her skin.  Her delicate fingers become longer claws, covered in thick, dark fear.  Her nails are blackened talons.  She pulls her hand back, tucks it under her chin.  “It’s too dangerous,” she says.  “Go stand by the doors over there-” She gestures.  “In case you need to rush inside.”

“You won’t hurt me,” he says.

“You don’t know that,” she says.  “Please.”

He nods.  Looks to Buddy, standing behind Skye.  “Stay inside, Buddy,” he orders.

Buddy whines, but lies down.

Grant meets Skye’s gaze.  “Are you sure you want me to move?”

“If I hurt you,” Skye says.  “I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.”

“You don’t have to worry,” Grant says.  “You’ll never hurt me.”

“Please,” she repeats.

He moves to the other side of the courtyard, cane scraping against the masonry.  He turns back to Skye.  “Is this far enough?”

She looks terribly nervous.  “Not really,” she says.  “Make sure that door behind you is unlocked.”

He does.  “Come on, Skye,” he says.  “I promise, it’ll be alright.”

She stares at him.  “What if we just stayed inside forever?” she asks.

“You need the sunlight,” he says.  “You’ve done it once before.  For me.  You can do it again.”

“For you,” she says.  “Promise me you’ll run if I lunge for you.”

He nods.

She squares her shoulders.  “Alright,” she says.  She takes the first step.

  
  


The beast is nothing like they’ve described.  He’s heard all the stories.  They said it was as big as a home, with glowing eyes.  She’s certainly not house-height.  She’s about as tall as he is.  Taller, but not by much. She’s got the snout and ears of a wolf and the mane of a lion.  She stands as a dog would, on its hind legs.  She’s hunched forward, with a spiny back. Her arms are larger, more muscular.  There are those clawed hands again.  And every inch of her is covered in fur.

Buddy rises from his position and barks.

“Buddy!” Grant calls, watching as Skye turns to snarl at his dog.  “No.  Leave her be.  Stay inside.”

Buddy gives one last growl before backing out of the doorway.  Grant lets out a sigh of relief.

Skye turns her attention back to him.  She growls, showing sharp, white teeth.

Grant doesn’t blink.  He doesn’t falter.  “Skye,” he says.  “Is this all you were afraid of?”

She snaps at him, draws nearer.  The fur on the back of her neck pricks up.

She’s got those same dark eyes.  He is not afraid.

“Skye,” he says, offering her his hand again.  “I know you won’t hurt me.”

This is the wrong thing to say.  She runs at him, knocks him against the door.  Her teeth are at his throat.

“It’s me,” he says, softly.  “It’s only me.  You don’t have to worry.”

She sniffs him.  It’s an odd sensation.  She sniffs his throat, his cheek, his hair.

“You’ve always been in control,” he promises.  “This doesn’t own you.  You’re still Skye.”

She looks down at him, curiosity crossing her dark eyes.  He smiles.  “There you are,” he says.  He tentatively reaches up, touches her soft fur.  “Hello, Skye.”

She pulls back, suddenly.  Her ears twitch.  She runs from him, leaps over the courtyard wall.

“Skye?” he asks.  He limps as quickly as he can to the wall.  “Skye?!”

Buddy rushes outside, barking after her.

“What in God’s name-” He tries to climb onto the courtyard wall and almost falls over in pain.  

Did he scare her?  Did he do something wrong?  He can’t chase after her with his leg.  He’ll need to stay here and wait for her.  That’s it.  He’ll wait.  And she’ll come back, and all will be well.

He searches for her along the lines of trees, and sees nothing.

He prays no one is out hunting.

She’ll come back.  She has to.

  
  


He waits for her by the doors.  He leaves them open for hours. The sun is beginning to set, staining the sky crimson.

He paces as well as he can with a broken leg.  In front of the fireplace, back and forth.  He attempts to read a book.  He tries to summon a loaf of bread, but only gets the dough.

She could be dead.  It would be his fault.  For forcing this on her.  He watches the wall like a hawk.  And waits.

  
  


The sun has nearly vanished when she comes back over the wall.

He almost leaps out of his chair.  He grabs his cane, limps to the doorway.  “Skye,” he says.  She approaches the doorway.  Her fur is a mess, full of burrs and sticks.  He’ll have to take those out for her.  She studies him, head tilted.

“I was so worried for you,” he says.  “Please come inside.”

She slowly comes to the door, and he reaches out and takes her clawed hand in his.  She sniffs in protest.  He pulls her back into the house.

Human Skye appears before his very eyes.  She’s a mess, all caked with dirt.  And she’s naked.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

He looks at her face.  “For what?”

“I ran off on you,” she says.  “You helped me, and I ran off.”

“It’s alright,” he says.  “As long as you’re safe now.”

“I recognized you,” she says.  “For the first time, I recognized someone.  I was in control.”

“Then why did you run?”

Her lips curl into a shy grin.  “I heard deer,” she says.  “I wanted to chase them.”

“Does that happen often?” he asks.

She almost looks indignant.  “I’ve always blacked out,” she says.  “When I transform.  But you helped me keep my head.  I chased them because I wanted to.  Not because of instinct.”

“I knew you had it in you,” he says.  “I knew you could control it if you tried.”

She shakes her head.  “Not without you,” she says.  “You’re my anchor.  Without you’d, I’d have been lost.”

He pulls her to him, despite the mud and the twigs in her hair.  He kisses her with everything in his soul.  Lets her grab at his face and consume him.  She kisses without mercy, without stopping for air.  She presses herself against him until there is no room left.  The only thing between her body and Grant’s are his clothes.

He should amend that.

His hands find the buttons of his jacket.  She pulls the garment off his shoulders, tugs his shirt from his trousers.

His belt finds the floor.  Then his trousers.  She reaches under his shirt.  “You’re so handsome,” she says.  “As a prince would be.”

“Only a prince for a princess,” he says.

She sighs happily.  Leads him to the loveseat.  Slides his shirt over his head.

“I need you,” she says.

“You have me,” he says.  “I’m yours.”

She climbs onto his lap.  “Don’t leave me,” she says.  “Don’t go home.”

He nuzzles the soft skin of her neck.  “I am home.”

He’s never known anything to be so true.

  
  


Grant lays beside Skye in her bedroom, twirling her hair in his fingers.  “I’ll find a way to break the spell,” he says.

She turns towards him.  “There is no way to break it.”

He loves the softness of her hair.  The warmth of her bed.  “If it can be cast, it can be broken,” he says.  “I’ll find it, and I’ll free you.”

She sighs, content.  “You’ve done more than enough for me.”  She curls up beside him.  “We can stay here forever.  Only the two of us.”

Buddy barks at the foot of the bed.

“And Buddy,” Skye adds.

Buddy doesn’t start barking.  The hair pricks on the back of the dog’s neck as he leaps off the bed.  His barks grow angrier, more feral.

Skye bolts upright in bed, resting her hand on Grant’s shoulder.  “Something’s wrong,” she says.  “Someone is trying to break into the Manor.”

Grant pulls himself up beside her.  Takes her hand.  “I’ll go look,” he says.  “I’m certain it’s nothing.”

Skye shakes her head.  “I can feel it.”

Grant fists the sheets of the bed.  “Shouldn’t the enchantment keep them away?”

“It’s not for anyone but me,” she says.  She’s growing frantic.  Desperate.  “I’ll go see them.  They must be here for me.”

Grant feels ill.  “No,” Grant says.  “They’re here for me.”

Skye tilts her head.  “For you?”

“I went missing,” he says.  “I suppose.  I went looking for Buddy and never returned.”  He slowly swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaches for his cane.  “It must be my brother.  I’ll tell him I’m fine, and he’ll leave.”

“You have a brother?” Skye asks.  

Grant sighs.  “I’ll explain when I return,” he says.

She grabs his wrist as his hand leaves hers.  “You don’t know the layout of the manor,” Skye says.  “I have to come with you.”

He desires nothing less than for Skye to meet his brother.  “You must stay hidden,” Grant says.  “Stay in the shadows while I speak with him.”

“Are you certain he’ll listen to you?” Skye asks.

He isn’t.  But what could Christian possibly do?  “I’ll have you behind me,” he says.  “I’ll be perfectly alright.”  He kisses her forehead.  “Nothing will happen to you.”

“I’m not worried about myself,” she says.

  
  


They dress as quickly as they can, while Buddy waits for them.

“Come on,” Skye says.  He can read the hesitation on her face.  “The grand hall is this way.”

“Skye,” he says, reaching for his hand.  “You need to know something.”

She pauses.  Glances at him over her shoulder.  It’s so intimately familiar.  “I know you love me, Grant,” she says.  “I love you, too.”

He does not like the dread in her voice.  But it will be alright.

  
  


They arrive in the Grand Hall the moment the door breaks inward.  Buddy growls, almost runs down the stairs.  Grant catches him.  “Stay up here with Skye,” Grant says.  “Protect her.”

“Hello?” Christian calls, stepping over the remains of the front door.  It’s raining outside again, and Christian is tracking mud in.  “Anyone here?”  He’s smirking, smug as ever.  Grant can hear the murmurs of the hunting party behind him.

“Christian,” Grant replies, from the top of the stairs.  He hobbles down, leaning on the railing for balance.  “Were you looking for me?”

“Grant!” Christian says, mock fondness in his tone.  “Why, baby brother! You’re alive!”

“I am,” Grant says.  “You’ve found me.  You may leave, now.”

Christian is quick to drop his fond façade.  “I can’t leave, Grant,” he says.  “I promised the men I’d bring them a beast.”

Grant shakes his head.  “There is no beast.” Grant says.  “It’s only a myth.”

“Is it?” Christian asks.  He draws his sword, silver glinting in the lamplight.  “Where is she, Grant?”

“She?” Grant says.

“The damn beast,” Christian says.  Grant tries to move forward.  Christian quickly places the blade at Grant’s throat.  “Sweet, stupid Grant.  You think I didn’t know?”

“I haven’t the faintest what you’re talking about,” Grant says.

“Such a tenderheart, Grant,” Christian mocks.  “Is she here?  Is she watching?”

“There is no she,” Grant says.  “I got caught in the rain, broke my leg.  I couldn’t come back to town on a broken leg, Christian.”

“Terrible liar,” Christian says.  The hunting party’s followed in behind him, torches blazing.  “Show yourself,” Christian calls.  “Or he dies.”

“There’s no one here,” Grant says.  “Just you, me, and your men.”

“Show yourself!” Christian yells again.  “I know all about this little house.  I know you can’t transform within its walls.”

Grant’s expression betrays him.

“Don’t look so shocked, Grant,” Christian says.  “There’s plenty I know that you don’t.”

  
  


“Leave him alone!”

Grant knows from the smile on Christian’s face that she’s revealed herself.  “Hello, Princess,” Christian says, staring over Grant’s shoulder.

“What are you?” Grant asks his brother.

“A man of many interests,” Christian responds.  “Did you fall for my brother, beast?”

Grant hears her footsteps on the stairs.  “I said: leave him alone.”

“How sweet,” Christian says.  “The only woman that could ever love you is a monster.”

“Don’t touch her,” Grant snarls.

Christian sighs.  “Such a shame, Grant,” he says.  “If you’d just killed her, this never would’ve happened.”

His brother’s sword pierces his heart before Grant even registers the motion.  He hears Skye screaming his name, just once.

Again, the world falls into blackness.

This time, he does not wake up.

  
  


—

The enchantment is supposed to keep her contained.  It’s supposed to keep her human.  But Grant.  Sweet, wonderful Grant, bleeding at the feet of his own brother.

It feels like her heart’s been ripped from her chest.  Like the sun’s gone out.

She’s never felt such loss.  Such grief.  Such unbidden rage.

_If it’s cast, it can be broken._   Grant had such faith.  In his love.  In her goodness.

He had faith in the wrong thing.  It’s not love that tugs at the bonds of the house’s enchantments.  It’s anger.

“Don’t be upset,” Christian says, stepping over Grant’s body.  He doesn’t bother to wipe the blood off his sword.  “You’ll be together again soon enough.”

The monster is calling her.  Begging her.  Mixing with all of the hurt in her heart and crawling up her throat.

The enchantments groan in protest.  Try to keep the beast under her skin.  If it’s cast, it can be broken.  If she hurts enough, if she rages enough-

Anything could happen.

If she gives into it, she’ll never resurface.  She’ll never know sunlight, or humanity, or the touch of Grant’s hand on her own.

Grant is dead.  Grant loved her, and he’s dead.

She’s not meant to be a human girl.

The enchantment is cracking.  The lights are going out, the warmth fading from the walls.  The manor rots beneath her feet, as terrible and decrepit as she’d been when they’d forced her here.

Grant broke the spell.  She’s so happy he’ll never find out.

“You want the monster?” she asks.  She hears Buddy growl behind her, ready to protect her.  “I’m right here.  Come closer, if you dare.”

Christian puts one muddy shoe on the stairs.

She shuts her eyes, and lets the beast swallow her whole. 


End file.
